


Sciogliere

by vaeltaa



Category: Actor RPF, Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Friends to Lovers, Height Kink, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Secret Crush, What Happens in Italy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 07:38:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13290168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaeltaa/pseuds/vaeltaa
Summary: Armie thinks back to earlier that day – or technically, yesterday, about how the multiple takes of kissing Timmy on his neck, lips, stomach and this beautiful,gorgeousboy straddling him, grinding, undressing… left him in a bit of an unprofessional state as soon as the AD yelled “cut”.





	Sciogliere

**Author's Note:**

> All of this is fictional.

It’s 2AM and Armie can’t get the _feeling, sound, smell, touch_ of Timmy straddling his lap and kissing him hard, harder – out of his mind. He shuts off the hotel television – _North by Northwest_ was playing, dubbed in Italian - and drops the remote on the table. He hadn’t been paying attention to the screen anyway.

It was day… 35? - _40? 45?_ He had no idea anymore – of principal photography on the film. The days blurred together. A blur of work that blurred into spare time, and all of it was blisteringly hot brick roads, swimming in lakes, a cacophony of cicadas, good food, new tastes and Timmy. 

This… Kid.

He stands, walks to get a glass of water from the bathroom.

_Somewhere in Northern Italy_ , the script said. He chuckled quietly to himself. Where they were didn’t really matter, he supposed. All he knew was that they were somewhere, and if it wasn’t for the daily call sheets telling him the date and time of where he was supposed to be, he would have lost all track of time.

He sips water. It is sink water and it is not cold enough.

He sighs, finds the ice bucket from the bar and opens the door to the hallway outside.

They were still shooting at the house. After his last take, they sent him off set and told him to get some rest. Timmy still had a few hours to go. Some solo Elio shots at night, he guessed. 

He walks down the silent hallway, automated lights turning on as he walked. He finds the ice machine, pushes the button and lets a few cubes drop into the steel bucket. It makes a racket.

He takes a cube in his hand and places it gently on his forehead, rubbing down his temple and cheek.

He’d known there was something real special about Timmy when they first met. Kid was fucking talented. Young, bit pretentious, but he had every reason to be. He soon found it too charming to care. He had a way about him that made him get under your skin. 

He did that to everyone. Right? Probably.

The ice cube reached his neck, dragging down and stopping in the hollow of his collar bone. God, it was hot here. If the hotel had AC, it seemed they switched it off at night.

Today was the first day of filming anything properly intimate between Elio and Oliver. They’d been building up to it for weeks. Shooting this film in chronological order was a real blessing. And a curse, he added to himself. Blessing because the obvious way in which it helped his work, exploring Oliver’s emotional journey in a natural progression where he slowly, slowly gave in to Elio. Their growing story, their love. It was a rare thing. He’d rarely, if ever, gotten a chance like this, as an actor. 

The blessing was also the curse. How natural it was for Oliver and Elio to begin to move in sync, the back and forth, the small touches, the first kiss… 

Armie realized the ice cube between his fingers was gone. His chest and shirt was wet.

He wipes his hand on the back of his shorts and pushes the button again, letting the bucket fill this time.

Oliver and Elio’s first kiss wasn’t… their first kiss. They’d rehearsed, a lot. Luca was the auteur personified, he knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it. And making out with another guy had never felt more natural and easy than that day in the grass with Timmy.

Armie sighs, loudly. It came out more like a groan. The ice bucket was full, and he stared at the glistening cubes. Wondered if he could bring enough of them to his room to bathe in them.

“Hey man!”

Armie turned to face the voice, startled. 

Sure enough.

“Oh. Tim,” he said, taking a quick breath in. “Hey, what’s up? You guys finish?”

Timmy was smiling that smile that could make you think the kid was never, ever, unhappy. He was also, Armie noted, a little sweaty. A lock of dark curls that was usually bouncing in the breeze was stuck to his forehead. 

Armie wanted to reach out, unstick it. Run his hands through Timmy’s hair, again. 

But real. 

No lights, microphones. No Luca and a camera lens.

“Yeah, all wrapped on my night stuff by myself,” Timmy says. “Most of it, I think anyway.” 

Timmy looks at his ice bucket, then back up at him. The height difference made it so that he was always doing that, looking up. Armie thought the view was pretty fucking good. He always liked being this tall, and somehow being able to see people like this, from above made it better. Made them more beautiful.

Especially Timmy. He could see his dark lashes flutter closed, his chin raised up in that certain way and the lengths of his neck exposed. 

He clears his throat. “Well, that’s good…” Before he can finish, Timmy has grabbed the bucket from his hand and darted past him down the hallway.

“Come on. I’m fucking thirsty.”

Timmy stops at room 306. Armie’s. He looks back at Armie, still grinning, and knocks on the door. “Let me in,” he fake-yells into the door’s peep hole.

Armie can feel himself smirking. The way he would smirk every time this kid reminded him of what it was like to be 21.

“Shhhh.” He reaches into his pocket for his key card. “Easy.”

Timmy disappears into the room, ice bucket in hand. The bottles in the well-stocked bar clang together as Timmy looks for something to quell his apparent thirst.

That was another thing – the kid liked gin. 

Armie closes the door behind him, and sighs. “Housekeeping already must think I’m a fucking alcoholic. Why do we always end up raiding _my_ bar?”

 

***

 

The script was not overtly detailed about the scene they’d begun today, and would continue tomorrow. _They fuck_ , it said. Or something equally blunt. But of course, Luca was not shy about his way of directing. 

The hotel room had substantial seating space in a living room area. They would hang out other places, of course. Cycling, exploring, eating. But Timmy seemed to like coming into his room, to wind down and talk. 

“I think today was my favorite so far,” Timmy says from his usual spot in a big, leather chair by the window. He sat curled up, one knee under his chin, drink in his hand. The room, not unlike the country house that was their other home, also had a balcony, but it was not connected to any other rooms.

They’d usually talk shop. Armie thoroughly enjoyed it. Timmy was intelligent, well-read and they would talk script points and Elio and Oliver, and also about themselves and Italian curiosities. Timmy didn’t like mozzarella. He’d begun specifically asking for his food to be without any.

“How so?” he asked. He finished pouring his own drink, dropping three ice cubes in the glass.

“I don’t know,” Timmy ponders, tapping a finger on his glass. Armie turns too look at him. The room was fairly dark, just one lamp on the nightstand dimly illuminating the space, and casting an orange glow on Timmy’s sharp features. He was like that, fidgety. But somehow again, in a charming way. “I just think we really nailed it, you know?”

Armie takes a sip, and chuckles. “Certainly.”

Realizing the terrible pun, Timmy rolls his eyes, laughs shortly and runs a hand through his hair. The sticky lock of hair gets unstuck from his forehead. “How’d you feel?” he asks, casually but cautiously. “I mean, about today? Luca seemed happy with the dailies.”

Timmy shifts in his seat slightly, bringing both hands around to cup his glass. “You kinda disappeared on me there.”

Armie thinks back to earlier that day – or technically, yesterday, about how the multiple takes of kissing Timmy on his neck, lips, stomach and this beautiful, gorgeous boy straddling him, grinding, undressing… left him in a bit of an unprofessional state as soon as the AD yelled “cut”.

He’d made some excuse and, yes… disappeared. “Oh, right.”

Sensing some disappointment, even perhaps some hurt, he sits down on the massive couch next to Timmy’s chair. “I’m sorry, I really wanted to stick around for the day,” he explains, taking a sip all casual and cool, knowing he was serving his friend a massive lie when the truth was that he had to take care of… business before he ruined his entire life and career.

Thankfully, Luca was the kind of director who firmly believed his actors should never watch themselves during production. If an actor is self-conscious, it ruins the illusion, he’d say. Armie was glad he did not have to endure watching himself and Timmy like that, because _fuck_.

“Just wasn’t feeling that great.” Another, massive lie. It was a mind blowing wank in the shower. The slight shame of it all edged him out in a way he hadn’t felt before. Afterwards, he’d felt fairly perverted and yet couldn’t seem to really give a fuck even though he knew he should. The Italian dubbed version of _North by Northwest_ didn’t take his mind off it in the least. 

And then he ran out of ice.

Timmy has gone quiet. “Oh,” he mutters, breathlessly. His restlessness makes him stand up, and he moves to place his now empty glass on the bar counter. Armie watches him closely, knowing the lie did not go unnoticed. He should have known better than to try to fool him, and now he has only hurt him… _fuck_. The kid’s emotional intelligence that helped him be fantastic at his job was probably a burden to bear sometimes. Armie wishes he could take it back.

“I mean, I get it,” Timmy continues with his back turned. “Like, being uncomfortable or whatever, you need your space.” He seems to fumble finding his words.

Armie can’t fucking take it one more second.

“Stop,” he finds himself saying. 

He stands, too. “Stop…”

Timmy seems to take him at face value and stops stirring his fresh drink. He doesn’t face Armie.

“That’s not,” Armie begins, closing the distance between them. “That’s not it, Tim.” He instinctually reaches out, places a hand on Timmy’s shoulder. “I’m not… _Nothing_ about this is making me uncomfortable.” 

Timmy turns to face him, drink forgotten. His eyes drop to Armie’s lips, only for a split second, but Armie notices and he feels hot, head swimming just enough to ease his muscles and blood flow to his crotch.

“Please don’t ever think that,” Armie says intently and lets his lingering hand drop from Timmy’s shoulder before it could get a mind of its own and caress the skin where his t-shirt ended and his neck begun.

A shadow seems to clear from Timmy’s eyes. “Okay,” he replies, a half-whisper. 

Timmy’s eyes drop from Armie’s down to his lips again, and this time it is deliberate. Timmy inhales, tongue dating out to wet his pink, soft lips. Armie remembers too well their softness and feels his body go down another path of betrayal. He’s hard.

“Okay…” Timmy says again, and leans up – and in. Armie’s eyes close and he feels utterly powerless and as Timmy’s tongue slides over his bottom lip and joins up to meet his own, warm and wet and all _Timmy_ , he falters backwards slightly. He recovers by grabbing Timmy by the hips, letting his hands do the exploring that they had been itching to do, but were not scripted to. Until now.

He slides his hands down Timmy’s shorts and boxers, sun kissed, warm skin and tanlines and grabs his perfect little ass, fitting nicely in his hands, cheeks spreading. He digs his fingers into skin and Timmy lets out a shaky moan against his lips and Armie half-lifts him up by his grip to kiss him deeper.

He drops Timmy back down and lets his lips travel to kiss, lick below Timmy’s ear. “ _Armie_ ,” he says raggedly in response, his hands on Armie’s chest and then stomach and then pants, searching and finding what he wanted.

Armie pulls back to see Timmy, lips parted and glowing a more deeper pink as he drops to his knees, teasing at the edge of Armie’s shorts with his fingers. “ _Oh_ , Christ. Timmy, _wait_ ,” Armie says, his hands steadying himself on the counter. 

Timmy doesn’t wait, pushing his face into his crotch, mouth open and mouthing at his erection in his shorts. He leaves small kisses on his stomach, pulling the shorts away, letting Armie’s cock fall out from his briefs.

Armie puts a hand in Timmy’s curls. He’s breathing heavy, _god it is so hot_. 

Timmy runs his tongue from Armie’s balls, up the length of his cock and to the tip, warm pink on warm pink and Armie thinks he might faint. He grabs Timmy’s fresh drink off of the counter and almost downs it all, putting the glass down with a shaky slam as Timmy opens his mouth to take him in, sucking in and sliding his lips around his cock.

“Fucking shit, Tim, Timmy… _Ughhh_.”

Armie lets himself watch, willing the heat in his lower back, stomach, crotch to stay, steady, easy. 

Timmy swallows his dick all the way down, his nose tickled by blonde pubic hair and moans from deep down his throat. The noise makes Armie jerk, electric shivers down his spine, and he steadies both hands in Timmy’s hair, guiding him to move.

Timmy obeys, drawing him out of his mouth before taking him in again, with a devilish swipe of the tongue. He lingers around the tip of Armie’s dick, letting the head sit just in between his stretched lips and tonguing at the precum.

For the second time that night Armie tells him to stop, only this time it is a pleading one. “Stop, Timmy, please…”

He did not want this to end until he had the boy shaking and moaning underneath him.

Timmy lets his cock go with a wet pop and rubs his mouth with the back of his hand. The bastard even lets out a chuckle. “Yeah?” He looks up at Armie from the floor, dishevelled hair, dark pink in his lips and cheeks. Armie lifts him to standing, grabs a fistful of Timmy’s hair before seizing his lips again, deep and hard and Timmy is loose and pliable. “I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t remember your name,” he says, surprising himself. “Gonna warm you up good,” Armie continues. “So good you won’t be able to hide it for the camera tomorrow.”

“ _Mmm_ ,” Timmy moans, grinding his hips and crotch up against the taller man. “Please…”

 

***

 

Timmy throws off his t-shirt, landing it on the floor next to the sizable bed covered in perfect, pressed white sheets. Armie halts by the door, leaning on the frame and touching himself slowly. The bedroom is dark except the moonlight streaming in from the double windows.

He watches Timmy undress completely and sag down, melt down into the bed on his back. He props one of the giant pillows behind his head and meets Armie’s gaze. He lets his hand, one finger trail over his right nipple, down his flat, muscular stomach to his erect cock, stroking it while never losing Armie’s sight. He stops. 

“You just gonna stand there?” Timmy teases, nonchalantly resting his arms behind his head, spread out on the bed. “How very Oliver of you.” He raises one eyebrow cheekily.  
Armie takes in the view for another moment, before walking to stand on the side of the bed. He unbuttons his shirt and lets his shorts and briefs fall off completely. Timmy watches him. He reaches into a drawer and pulls out a small tube, leaving it open on the nightstand.

He gets on the bed next to Timmy and slowly leans down and kisses him softly. 

Timmy unfurls his arms from behind his head to grab Armie’s head and neck, to deepen the kiss. “Turn over,” Armie instructs affectionately against Timmy’s ear.

Timmy’s breath hitches in his throat. He bites his lower lips, tosses himself around and uses the same pillow to prop his head up. “No,” Armie whispers against his neck from behind. “Give me that.”

Taking the pillow, he motions for Timmy to lift his ass up and places it under his hips and goes on to place kisses down his spine. Timmy arches his back and lets out a laugh that turns into a groan as Armie’s tongue reaches the top of his ass, teasing just at the top of the crack.

“ _Ah_!”

Armie stops, and smiles. 

The tanline where his ass ends and back begins is clearly visible in the ghostly moonlit rays from the windows, and his slender body and soft skin with the odd mole is heaven.

One of the first nights in Italy, they got too drunk. Drinking games earned him a confession from Timmy. 

_I haven’t, actually. No, I swear. Not all the way, with a guy. Just making out._

The thought of being the first to have Timmy like _this_ drives Armie wild.

He continues, using both hands to grasp his pale, perfect ass, opening him up, tongue finding its way to right _there_ , teasing and prodding the edges of his hole. He can feel Timmy spasm but forcing himself to not make too much noise, burying his face into the other pillow. Armie adds a finger, licking it well before gently, slowly edging it past the tight ring of muscles.

He places another kiss, right on the tanline. “Is this okay?”

Timmy gives a muffled groan, curls jumping around as he nods furiously into the pillow. Smiling, Armie gently removes his finger and lets his hand caress Timmy’s ass cheek as he leans over him. “On your back,” he coaxes, and Timmy digs his face out of the pillow, flushed and panting.

Once on his back, Timmy grabs Armie by the neck and pulls him down, onto him, kissing his lips and neck and shoulder. “Armie”. He falls back down onto the pillow. “ _Fuck_ me, Armie…”

Armie quickly grabs the tube from the nightstand, pours out enough to coat his cock, and he leaves some on one finger, reaches down and lifts Timmy’s right leg. He carefully rubs the lube in and around Timmy’s hole, making him gasp and writhe beneath him.

Positioning himself, he rubs the head of his cock up and down Timmy’s crack, slowly and agonizingly.

“Jesus, fuck,” Timmy exclaims into Armie’s neck. Smiling, Armie hushes him.

Continuing to tease just the tip of his dick around Timmy’s hole, barely breaching the rim, he looks at Timmy – now sweat droplets making his dark locks stick to his temples, mouth open and panting, hands gripping Armie’s upper arms tight enough to bruise and his leaking cock contrasted against dark pubes. 

Armie feels the warmth in his body radiate through his cock, straining for friction, for release and he enters Timmy as slowly as he humanly can – the action drawing a silent gasp from the boy beneath him. Armie fills his cock filling him up, and he guides Timmy’s legs to a comfortable widespread position, the pillow below his lower back helping to ease him in.

“Relax,” he whispers. “ _God_ , you’re so beautiful, Timmy.”

He draws himself out equally as slow, watching Timmy’s face scrunch up in a combination of pleasure, a tinge of pain and desperate arousal. Armie spreads more lube around his cock without fully withdrawing it, and pushes back inside of him with more ease this time. 

The moan Timmy lets out is music to his hears as Armie fills his ass completely, his hole stretched to its limit and his muscles relaxed and inviting around his cock. “ _Mmm_ ah-Armie!”

Armie’s lower back spasms, blonde hair dishevelled in his face and he knows he won’t last long like this. He pulls nearly all the way out and starts a faster, pumping rhythm. He lets his hips do the work, folding Timmy’s legs back into his chest to gain access to his lips. “Tim… Timmy, I – _god yes_ ,”

Timmy slips his tongue out to lick Armie’s lips, bottom to top, just like _that_ time. 

The first time Timmy did it, it was not in a rehearsal. The camera was rolling, it was the second or third take, he couldn’t remember, and it was unscripted and it took Armie by surprise. Luca said cut and applauded. Armie wanted another take, another lick, another kiss… 

Luca had said, “that’s the one!” And they had moved on.

Here, and now, Armie remembers and it’s all it takes.

Timmy slips his tongue out to lick Armie’s lips, bottom to top, just like _that_ time. 

He comes inside of Timmy, body rippling through orgasm and cock pulsating inside, filling up, so warm and tight –

“F-f-uhh,” he mutters into Timmy’s hair, ineloquently. He pushes himself up on one arm shakily, and looks down at this gorgeous, pretentious, charming and definitely under-his-skin kid.

He was fucked out, blissful – and still he leaned up to him, lips seeking his.

Armie leans on one elbow, cock still inside of him - while using the other to grab a firm hold of Timmy’s rock-hard dick, stroking it in a quick pace, thumbing at the slit. 

Timmy gasps into Armie’s mouth and lets his head drop back down onto the pillow, hands instinctively and submissively gathering above his head, grasping the headboard. Armie leans down to suck and bite at the sensitive skin under his left ear, and side of his neck as Timmy’s breathing goes quicker again and his body jerks, tightening the muscles around Armie’s dick once again – 

“ _Ahhh_ ,” - and he comes in Armie’s hand with a small cry.

Armie collects the small noise and consequent whimpers into his mouth, kissing him deeply as he rides the waves of orgasm, covering his fingers with warm cum. Once Timmy has stilled, his body gone limp and melted into the sheets, Armie pulls out and falls down next to him. 

He wipes most of the cum off on Timmy’s stomach before he swats his hand away.

Timmy half-opens one eye to look at him sleepily, happily. 

“Thanks for the warmup.”

Armie laughs, a deep, genuine hearty laugh. “You’re welcome,” he replies softly, as Timmy rolls into him, nuzzling his face into the nook of his neck, one arm slung over his considerably broader and hairier chest.

Armie smiles, closing his eyes, feeling sleep overtake him. “You sleep now. We gotta do this again tomorrow.”

On the counter of the bar outside, stands an ice bucket full of water.

 

***

**Author's Note:**

>  _sciogliere_  
>  (ˈʃɔʎʎere) (irregular)
> 
> **transitive verb**  
>  a. (liquefare) _to melt_  
>  b. (nell'acqua, zucchero) _to dissolve_  
>  c. (neve) _to melt, thaw_
> 
> **il sole ha sciolto la neve** the sun has melted the snow  
>  **sciogliere il ghiaccio** (figurative) to break the ice


End file.
